


can it be easy for once?

by OnyxSphinx



Series: knives 'verse [1]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, might eventually write more in this universe because this was very cathartic to create, there were no chronic pain!alex fics so i thought what the hell. be the change you want to see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29956278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Alex struggles with the possibility that there might not be anything wrong with him physically, and Tom comforts him.
Relationships: Tom Harris/Alex Rider
Series: knives 'verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2204838
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	can it be easy for once?

**Author's Note:**

> this is.............who even knows what this is honestly. there's some tomalex fluff though. anyway yes i stole the title from the crane wives' "the wolf" because it's midnight and i am _shit_ at titles

"Well," says the doctor, tapping her pen against the clipboard she's been scribbling notes on, "I can send you in for an echo for your heart, and an x-ray for your ribs, but as far as I can tell, there's nothing physically wrong with you. You don't have any dislocated bones, and your spine doesn't show any signs of scoliosis, so I don't really know what to tell you besides take an aspirin if it gets bad."

"Alright," Alex says, biting back a grimace. His ribs _ache_ something horrible and his shoulders feel like someone's dug a scalpel beneath the blades and left it there. "Do I need to schedule the echo and the x-ray with the front desk, or...?"

The woman—Dr. Collins, Alex remembers her name is—shakes her head. "Not necessary," she says, sticking her pen into the pocket of her coat. "I'll go print you out an order and you can take it down to the hospital and they'll get you all put to rights."

 _Put to rights,_ Alex thinks, dourly. _How unlikely._ Externally, though, he just offers a tired smile and says, "Thanks."

Dr. Collins exits the room, leaving him alone, sitting on the edge of the examination table; thinking about everything that's happened. About her words. _Nothing physically wrong with you_ —except, he's in constant pain. Every waking moment, to some degree or other. And not just the aches where he's sustained injuries, either. And then there's the matter of the blacking out for a bit whenever he stands up.

He sighs. Supposes it's probably been building up to this for a while. He's twenty now, but looking back on it, there were signs of _something_ even before 'six recruited him. Days when he'd be too fatigued to get out of bed—rare, at the start, but becoming more common as he got older. Days when he wouldn't be able to participate in PE because even just breathing made it feel like his ribs were a vice. Leg pains that Ian always brushed off as growing pains even when they left him unable to walk.

Over time, he built up a tolerance to the pain. It became something that just _was_ ; to the point where he didn't hardly notice it going from bad days to bad weeks to bad years. He's honestly amazed, looking back, that he lasted as long as he did like that. Then again, adrenaline works wonders.

He won't be much use once 'six finds out, though. And they will find out, he's sure of it. He's no longer so naïve as to think he has any privacy anymore. He nearly chuckles bitterly at the realisation that this might finally be what gets them to stop coming to him. He's not even a fucking proper agent—they refuse to hire him. They prefer to blackmail and manipulate him into completing assignments.

Alex drags a hand down his face. Sighs. Well. It's not like the doctor's given him any new information. And, honestly, he doesn't think the echo or x-ray will, either. Which sucks, but he's used to things being less than ideal. He can probably keep dealing with this.

The door opens. Dr. Collins enters, papers in hand; hair frizzying and glasses slightly askew. He shifts and ignores the pressure against his ribs; ignores the way his legs ache as he stands; takes the papers from her; flicks through them. A report of his visit, complete with height—an even five-eight—and weight—a touch under sixty-eight kilos, and an order for the echo, and another for the x-ray.

"Thanks," he says; folds them up and tucks them into his black messenger bag next to his laptop and the textbook for his econ course.

She nods. "Have a good day, Mister Rider."

"You too." He ducks out the door, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking his messages. There's a few in the groupchat for one of his other courses—they have a project due in a few days—and a few from Tom that he instinctively knows include questions about the clinic visit.

He hesitates before opening those. It was Tom who had encouraged him to actually get seen for the pain, after coming home to Alex huddling under a blanket on the couch, unable to get up due to full-body pains one too many times. He'd sighed deeply, in the way that Alex knew meant he was mad at the universe, and had gotten Alex a cup of water and a bite to eat on a tray and helped prop him up with pillows before setting it onto his lap.

"You know," he said, as Alex made his way through the sandwich in slow, measured bites so as to reduce the pain in his neck, "it's not normal."

"Yeah, I got that memo, thanks," Alex had snarked back. "It's fine, Tom, it's just, just exam season, or whatever, and I'm stressed, and—"

Tom had cut him off, shaking his head. "No, seriously," he said; dark eyes slightly said. "Mate, I've known you since we were kids. This has been getting worse for years."

Alex had swallowed thickly and set his sandwich down. There had been a long silence. Tom shifted and reached out, putting his hand over Alex's; a comforting gesture. Alex wanted to kiss him for the small gesture, but had been in too much pain to do so.

"Yeah," he'd croaked, finally. "Yeah, I...you're right."

"You should see the doctor," Tom had said. "Maybe they'll be able to figure out what's wrong."

So Alex had looked into his planner the next day, when the pain had somewhat abated, and found a day when he had the afternoon free, and booked himself an appointment at the local clinic.

Now, standing in the dreary court outside it, he wonders what he expected. For a doctor to see him and go, "Ah-hah! I know _just_ what's wrong with you! Here, take this, it'll help" maybe? Ridiculous, he realises, now. Foolish, to think a single appointment would change anything. But it still leaves him feeling hollow with disappointment.

He taps the screen, which was going black; watches it blink back to life; opens Tom's messages.

_hey mate, how'd it go?_

_btw i'm ordering us chinese for dinner i hope you don't mind_

_also i saw this poster for a new godzilla movie they're showing at the theatre and i thought we should go on tuesday night maybe? if you're free_

Alex's lips tip upwards involuntarily. _chinese is fine,_ he texts back. _and a movie sounds great_

He takes the underground back to their flat. Ignores the pain of trying to sit in the tiny plastic seats. Reasons with himself that he's had worse, which is objectively true. He's been in worse pain before, especially on missions.

When he opens the door to their flat, the scent of fried food and soy sauce greets him as an old friend, and some of the tension he's been carrying with him bleeds out of him, which makes him feel marginally better. Tom's voice floats from the kitchen. "Hey, you're finally home."

"Hey yourself," Alex says, closing the door behind him. "Dinner smells good."

He makes his way into the kitchen; finds Tom wrangling dumplings onto a plate. When the other turns around to see him, he grins. "I missed you," he says, and Alex can't help himself; he closes the gap between them and kisses him.

"I missed you too," he says; and then realises his voice has gone slightly hoarse; winces.

Tom notices immediately, of course. "Go lie down on the sofa," he commands, "you'll feel better." Alex wants to protest; he's not a bloody invalid; but Tom is right, it will help; so in the end, he does as told. A few minutes later, Tom comes out with their plates on a tray; drags one of the chairs over to the sofa. Alex shifts, propping himself up, and takes the tray from Tom, placing it on his lap, and hands Tom his plate.

"How bad is it?" Tom asks; worrying his lip; hands fidgeting. He takes a stab at one of his dumplings; misses.

Alex sighs. "I've had worse."

" _Alex._ "

"...five or six, probably," he replies, finally. Sighs. "The doctor says I'm in perfectly good condition physically. She did draw some blood for, like, arthritis tests and stuff, and I have echo and x-ray orders I'm going to take in to the hospital tomorrow...."

"But?"

Alex huffs. Tom knows him so well. "I don't know. It just feels like—so far, everything's come back negative, you know? What if it all comes back and there's still nothing wrong with me physically? Do I have...do I have the right to keep taking these days off, and whatnot? It just," he hurries to add, seeing Tom's look, "it feels like I'm blowing it out of proportion."

Tom sighs. "Alex," he says, "I love you a lot, but you're kind of an idiot. Look at me—look at me," he says, sternly, making sure Alex actually does. "You're not blowing it out of proportion. You deserve to make accommodations for your suffering. And I swear to god, if you even _dare_ get started on how you've had worse so you should be able to make it through this and go on like normal, I'm going to—well, I don't know _what_ I'm going to do, but it'll be _something,_ " he finishes, fiercely.

Alex feels a laugh bubble up in his throat against his will. "Thanks," he says, smiling, quietly. There's a long beat of silence, and then he says, "On the upside, I'm thinking 'six might finally leave me alone."

"Hey," Tom says, "that's great. Now eat, you're thin as a rake."

"Okay, _mum,_ " Alex says, with a roll of his eyes, and spears one of his dumplings, dipping it in sauce and downing it.

After they eat, Tom curls up against him on the couch and they watch an old samurai film with terrible production values that has Alex drifting off halfway through. As he falls asleep, his last thought is that, whatever happens, he'll face it with Tom by his side; and the thought has him smiling before the darkness claims him.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
